


Cruisin'

by ratherbehere



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - Canon, Bottom Dean, Case Fic, Charlie Lives, Deepthroating, Dom/sub Play, Explicit Sexual Content, Hunter Dean, Hunter Sam, M/M, Mystery, Non-Angel Castiel, Orgasm Delay, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Public Sex, Rimming, Romance, Strangers to Lovers, Teasing, Top Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-14
Updated: 2016-01-14
Packaged: 2018-05-13 21:36:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5717971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ratherbehere/pseuds/ratherbehere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam just wants Dean to relax. They deserve a break from the hunting life, so he’s booked a cruise. Dean’s less than happy about this, but when he meets the mysterious and suave marine biologist Castiel Milton, things begin looking up. <i>And perking up</i>. Unfortunately though, Dean’s a Winchester, and something always has to go wrong. Will a rash of on-ship break-ins ruin their fun?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cruisin'

**Author's Note:**

> Art master post can be found [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5718292). Check it out! A million thanks to Litra for the great art and for working with me to come up with a story that I think pleases us both, even if "cruise" wasn't the original idea.
> 
> Warning: Abduction and forced relationship occurs off-screen, pre-story.
> 
> Apologies for any abuse to the mythology I pulled from, to any marine biologists who may read this, any obvious errors in understanding how a cruise works, and subjecting an ancient Mayan statue to sexual exploits.
> 
> Oh, who am I kidding. _That statue is lucky._

The cruise ship bobbled in the water and Dean stood with their bags, staring at it like its mere existence was offensive.

It had all been Sam's idea.

_A vacation_ , he spoke.

_We need one_ , he demanded.

_I already booked it_ , he deadpanned, slapping the tickets on the table in front of him.

While Dean didn't have the same issues with boats as he did with planes, and he wasn't prone to seasickness, he still had no love for these monstrosities. Forced activities with strangers, fake cheerfulness from the deck crew, and an entire class of people with money and day jobs and savings accounts, and 2.2 kids. The kind of people that Dean was not.

He honestly had no idea why Sam wanted this trip so much, or why he wouldn't let Dean bow out. Or at least compromise on the vacation, so Dean wouldn't be trapped on the water, his only escape from the nightmare of middle class snobbery being a cell he could literally touch both sides of from the middle of the room.

“Hey,” Sam said, picking up his duffel from Dean's side. He had wanted to hit the bathroom one last time on dry land. “Ready to board?”

“Ready to get pushed overboard?”

Sam let out a puff of air. “At least try to learn how to have a little fun that doesn't involve staking things.”

“I play—” Dean began, affronted.

Sam held up a hand. “Minesweeper doesn't count.”

Dean huffed. “Fine.”

“C'mon.”

Sam slung his duffel over his shoulder and took off for the gate. Dean sighed, picked up his own bag, and followed.

* * *

Their room, if it was possible, was even smaller than Dean had imagined.

“Sam,” Dean said flatly, as if it said everything for him.

Sam huffed in annoyance. “This isn’t that bad, Dean.” In defiance, Dean crossed his arms, so Sam added, “We'll barely be in here anyway.”

Dean had rolled his eyes and frowned at that. And so the forced mingling and activities begins.

Things improved slightly at dinner when Dean discovered the cruise was all-inclusive, including beer. Their best free beer was Busch and that wasn't saying much, but at least it was beer. And free.

“Seriously, you didn't hear me say that this was all-inclusive? Or at least look at your ticket?” Sam asked with noted exasperation.

Dean shrugged and chugged his fourth Busch. The other occupants at their round table all stared at him like he was a heathen. God, what did they want from him? He was wearing the button-down, short-sleeved striped top that Sam had insisted he buy for the trip, a pair of jeans without blood stains, and flip flops.

FLIP. FLOPS.

Also something Sam had insisted.

He was due his damn beer.

The elderly woman from next to him coughed and spoke. “Anniversary trip?” she asked them, blotting her mouth with a napkin. At Dean's look of confusion, she clarified. “Well it's clearly not the honeymoon. If you forgive the assumption, it looks more like you're trying to rekindle the fire, not running with the flames.”

Dean had choked at his beer at the word 'honeymoon' and was still coughing by the time she had finished. Sam saved them.

“You'll have to forgive him,” Sam explained with his charming smile, patting Dean on the back as his eyes began to stream. The beer had gone down the wrong windpipe. “We're just brothers.”

She looked at them like no one would ever believe that, and so did everyone else.

Fantastic.

He'd take the opportunity to rub it in Sam's face that the shirt did, indeed, scream 'flaming,' but he didn't think that pointing out that Sam had bought him a shirt would help their case. He also wasn't particularly keen on arguing over the existence of bisexuality, so he kept his mouth shut, and scowled into his beer.

The rest of the dinner was filled with the kind of small talk that made Dean want to stab himself in the eye. How did quote-un-quote normal people enjoy this stuff? And want to do it on a regular basis?

He escaped dinner early. He made an excuse about seasickness and headed out. He didn't go to his room however. The halls were quiet, with everyone, or almost everyone, down at dinner, and Dean soaked in the peacefulness. When he made it outside, he discovered that the sun was low in the sky. If he headed to his right, he'd probably have a great view of the sun setting. Somehow, a part of him was excited about that.

He turned the corner and his breath caught in his throat. The sky was awash in color, purple and blues and oranges and reds, and all the hues that normally soaked through the sky when the sun exploded at the horizon, plus some colors Dean had never seen before.

But that wasn't what made his heart skip a beat.

The source of that particular malfunction was a man leaning against the railing. He was a tall man, with dark hair and his head thrown back, exposing a strong jaw bone. His skin was kissed warm by the setting sun, skin that Dean instantly wanted to taste.

He opened his eyes and turned to look at Dean, the small smile on his face remaining in place.

“Hello,” he said with a deep voice, both rough and smooth, like silk pulled over sandpaper. “Come to enjoy the view?”

Dean had to swallow before he could reply. “Yeah,” he said, voice lower than normal. “It's gorgeous.”

The man patted the railing in invitation and Dean had no inclination to decline.

“Are you also hiding from the dinner mayhem?”

Dean shook his head, leaning back into the rail. “I only just got away.”

“Ah,” the man said. “I'm harboring a fugitive.”

Dean let out a snort of a laugh that surprised him. Well look at that, he was enjoying himself after all.

“My name's Dean,” Dean said, holding out his hand.

The man tilted his head, evaluating Dean for one second longer than was strictly necessary before taking his hand. “Castiel,” he said.

“Castiel,” Dean said, rolling it around on his tongue. “I like it.”

He hummed in response, watching Dean intently.

“Is this your first cruise, Dean?” Castiel asked. “You look like you want to jump overboard and swim away.”

“Heh,” Dean said, palming his neck. “The thought had occurred to me, yeah.” Dean watched the sky shift to a wash of deep purple hues. “I was dragged on this cruise by my brother, who insisted I needed a break.”

“Do you?”

Dean searched Castiel's eyes for a moment, enjoying the way they seemed glow in the last rays of the setting sun before answering.

“I didn't think so, but yeah, I guess I could use a distraction.”

Castiel angled his chin up, considering Dean's words. He was about to respond when Sam's voice called out from the way Dean had come, hollering for him.

“Well, Dean,” Castiel said, pushing off from the deck railing. “I hope you find your distraction. I enjoy blackjack, personally.”

He didn't wink, but his mouth twitched with mischief. Dean watched him leave with a lopsided smile. As he had implied, and Castiel no doubt understood, he was very much hoping Castiel would be that distraction. A glance at the swell of his behind as he walked away, just managing to avoid walking straight into the Wall of Sam coming at him, only firmed up that desire.

“Where the hell have you been?” Sam demanded.

Dean watched Castiel slip into the cabin before turning to Sam.

“Well Sammy, I have good news.”

“What's that?”

“I'm ready to participate,” Dean said. “Where's the casino?”

* * *

 An hour later, Dean strode into the casino wearing what Sam had called, “business casual.” The button down was nothing special, but the black slacks were sharp, and Dean knew his ass looked damn fine in them.

So what if this wasn't his normal gig? He felt sexy and sophisticated, and now that he had a reason for it, he was enjoying the feeling.

And so help him, as he looked around the room, he was glad Sam had insisted on the clothing change.

“Cool,” Sam said, bouncing on his feet. “Not quite what I had in mind, but if it gets you to relax, I'm all in. What do you want to hit first? Slots? Roulette?”

Dean spotted the messy dark hair of the man he'd been talking with earlier and knew what, and hopefully who, he'd be doing with the evening.

“Ideally, I'd hit that first,” Dean said, “but I'll probably play some cards first.”

Sam's mouth flopped open. “You brought me here to ditch me so you could get laid,” he said flatly. Dean lifted one shoulder half-heartedly, smiling cheekily. “Ugh,” Sam complained, running his hand down his face. “I can't believe I'm going to say this, but you need it. Go. Flirt. Have fun. I'll be at the poker tables.” He moved away, calling back, “Tie on the doorknob if you use our room and don't forget a condom!”

Several people turned to look at them. Dean winked at an older man that was probably an oil baron or something and the guy scowled and looked away sharply.

After a stop to get some chips, he headed for the Blackjack tables. The seat next to Castiel was vacated just as Dean approached and he slid smoothly into it.

He waited for the hand to finish, the dealer striking out, and all standing players raked in their winnings.

“Bets,” the dealer called.

“I'm in,” he told the dealer, coolly ignoring Castiel for a moment, sliding his bet in.

To his dismay, Castiel didn't immediately respond, didn't greet him. Was he that forgettable?

Castiel placed his bet, significantly more than Dean's. That he had more money than Dean was not surprising, but the amount of it was.

As dealer began dealing the cards, Dean began revising his strategy. Just when he was contemplating some seriously cheesy pick-up lines involving angels, Castiel spoke.

“Did you even know this boat had a casino before I mentioned blackjack?”

Castiel hadn’t looked up, but was watching his fingers, riffling a tall stack of chips with ease.

Dean was taken back for a brief moment and then let his lips tilt up at the corners. “No clue,” he answered. “Thanks for the heads up.”

“Thanks for joining me,” Castiel said, finally turning his head to meet Dean's eye. “Cards are much more interesting with a beautiful man by my side.”

Dean felt a chill go down his spine. Oh yes, this was going to be good.

“Beautiful?” Dean asked. “I was aiming for handsome.”

The dealer cleared his throat, a young man with pocked skin. “I'm sure you are both, sir. Hit?”

Dean was surprised to see a card in front of him. Right, blackjack. It wasn't his forte, not being a great game to hustle at. But it was one of the few casino games where the odds were slightly in the player's favor. More than slight if you could count cards, and do it smart enough to not be caught.

But did he really want to put thought into the game right now?

He had 19. Good enough.

“Stay.”

Castiel had 17, and the house was showing 15. He hit and a three came on the flip.

The house ended up busting again and they both collected their winnings.

Play continued, Dean casually keeping an eye on the game, and a not-so-casual eye on Castiel. His right hand continued to riffle chips, the action highlighting the length and delicate structure of his fingers. Fingers Dean hoped to become more acquainted with shortly.

They chatted casually, an undercurrent to the talk that was spiked with energy and slowly driving Dean insane. This game was a stall, nothing he could do but talk and play.

“I need a refresher,” Dean said out of nowhere. “Care to join me for a drink, Cas?”

Castiel nodded. “A break sounds good. I was doing poorly anyway.”

No, he wasn't. Not even a little. He was doing great. Dean's chip pile was about as big as when he first sat down, but Castiel had clearly gained. As they stepped away from the table, Castiel collecting his stack of chips, Dean did a double take.

He hadn't been counting cards, but it was entirely possible Castiel was.

And that... that was hot as fuck.

They turned their chips in, Castiel adding them to his account, Dean asking for cash, and headed to the bar. Cas ordered a martini like he was fucking James Bond, and Dean opted for the safe answer of “same.”

After they both paid, Cas tilted his head towards the windows and raised his eyebrows in question. Dean nodded and followed Cas over to the view. They could just make out the water, moving fluidly, reflecting light from the ship.

“So, Dean, what do you do?”

Dean had just started to sip his martini, and even if it hadn't tasted like ass, he would have sputtered at the question.

He licked his lips and attempted to regroup before answering. “I protect people,” he said, figuring the lie was close enough to the truth and sounded a whole heck of a lot better than their usual response of pest control.

“A body guard?” Castiel took a sip from his drink and sighed in contentment.

“Not exactly,” Dean said, carefully, attempting to follow Castiel's lead. He managed to get the drink down without sputtering or making a face, so it was a win. “More like... there are bad things—people—and I stop them.”

Castiel paused with the drink halfway to his mouth before responding.

“Very mysterious,” he finally concluded.

Dean shrugged. “It's not as glamorous as it sounds,” he said. “What do you do? Or do I even have to ask, Mr. Bond?”

Castiel blinked twice. “My last name is Milton.”

“I...” Dean started. “Like, James Bond? The spy?” When Castiel tilted his head in confusion, Dean added, “Seriously, you had to have at least heard of Skyfall! It was one of the best Bond movies of all time.”

“Ah,” Castiel said, nodding. “A movie. I'm sorry to disappoint Dean, I'm simply not very familiar with most media.”

“You didn't deny being a spy though,” Dean said, wiggling his eyebrows.

Castiel laughed. His eyes lit up with mirth and if Dean thought he was hot earlier, he's downright irresistible like this.

“As much as I loath to kill a fantasy, I'm not spy,” Castiel said. “I lead a research team in biological marine life.”

“You swim with dolphins.”

Castiel laughed again, though his face held less myrth than before. “Not at all. We work on land, unfortunately.”

Dean thought of the pile of chips Castiel had carried to the clerks. “I didn't know research into marine life made that much money.”

Castiel's eyes slid to the outside, watching the lights dance on the moving water. “It doesn't, usually, but we've had some lucky breakthroughs that have resulted in investors, partnerships, and patents. I'm more of a businessman now than anything, but at least our research is benefiting marine life.”

“It's important to you, isn't it.”

“It's my passion,” Castiel agreed, finishing his drink. “Though not my only one.”

The look he sent Dean was loaded with meaning and Dean's sip of his drink turned into a guzzle. He slid his glass onto a nearby table with barely a glance. His eyes were on Castiel.

“It's a nice night, Cas, we should take a walk.”

They left the artificially cooled air of the casino and stepped into the warm air of a Spring night in the Gulf. The breeze was light and refreshing, and the glow of the moon was once again kissing Castiel's skin. They bumped casually as they wandered down the deck to an empty corner, where Castiel stopped and turned to look at Dean, his gaze sharp. Dean almost blushed under its intensity.

“Dean, I'm afraid I must confess something,” Castiel stated.

Dean licked his lips. “Oh yeah?”

“You're incredibly attractive and I'd like to give your brother a reason to give me the Protective Brother Speech.”

“Little tip, Cas?” Dean began.

“It's not remotely little.”

Heat rushed to Dean's nether regions at the innuendo Cas was implying. Then he powered on past it to finish his statement. “Don't mention the brother if you're about to proffer sex with someone you just met.”

“Noted,” Castiel replied, stepping closer. He carefully placed a hand on Dean's chest, Dean watching, breath caught in his throat. Castiel slid his hand up, his fingers grazing the skin above Dean's collar, before curving it around the back of his neck.

“Cas,” Dean said, whispering between them, their lips close. “Kiss me.”

Castiel smiled, more of a smirk than anything. Dean could almost see him filing away the information that Dean likes it when someone else takes the lead.

In one breath Dean was tracing the curve of his lips with his eyes, and the next, he was tracing it with his tongue.

Castiel moaned into his mouth, pulling him closer. He kissed like he was hungry for it, like Dean was the only man on the ship capable of providing whatever he needed.

This was happening, Dean thought. He was making out with a gorgeous man that he'd met on a cruise of all places. And for one very brief moment, he wasn't worried about hunting monsters, or Dad's legacy, or that he wasn't worth anything this nice. For one moment he was drowning in lips that tasted like sin while blunt fingernails on slim, long fingers scratched lightly at the back of his skull.

It was perfect. He barely knew the guy, but right now, that was a perk. In fact, with the cruise being a mere five days in length, not knowing more was going to work in their favor. They both knew going in that this romance had a time limit. No emotions, just sex. Perfect.

He could submerge himself in this for a few days, and conveniently pretend Sam wasn't right.

The moment was shattered by an ear piercing scream.

Castiel broke the kiss, looking off to where the scream came from, back within the ship. “It came from the suites,” he stated before taking off at a jog for the source of the sound.

The need to protect warred with Dean's libido, which was finding Castiel's sense of courage and heroism hot as hell.

Shoving his libido to the side, he took off after Castiel, following him into the ship and down a hallway, where the source of the scream was easy to locate.

A lanky man in a tuxedo that oozed money stood in the doorway of a large suite. He was sobbing hysterically, which was destroying his well manicured moustache.

These people had fucking Mussolini moustaches and no one found that weird.

Castiel got to him first, asking, “What happened, what's wrong?” He placed a hand at the man's elbow before turning to look into the room. His eyes widened. A second later, Dean caught up, and could see why.

The room had been completely turned over. Drawers were pulled out and their contents unceremoniously dumped, the bedding was tossed aside, the closet's drawers were hanging haphazardly and the suitcase that had been stowed within was laying on the floor, open and content free.

“Looks like you were robbed,” Dean said. The man sobbed harder and Castiel shot Dean a warning look. Dean bit his lip. _Sorry_ , he tried to convey.

“I'll call security. Look around—don't touch anything—but see if you can notice anything missing,” Castiel instructed. He carefully stepped into the room and picked up the phone by the bedside to call the operator.

Five minutes later, security was in the room, taking statements, or whatever passed for that with cruise ship security, and looking for any evidence or clues. They didn't find any of the normal kind, and Dean hadn't found any of the abnormal kind. They chalked it up to some people coming back from the pool, drunk, and taking advantage of a door that hadn’t clicked shut properly to look for some riches.

Except they hadn't stolen anything. When Dean tried to question that, he was reminded that he was no longer needed and should move along.

He looked to Cas, who was swiping a finger along the top of the dresser.

“Whatchya find?” Dean asked as Castiel approached, heading for the exit. He was looking at the tip of this finger.

Castiel looked up, startled. “Oh,” he said. “Just a cat hair,” he explained. He puckered his lips and blew at the finger, sending the hair into the room. “I guess housekeeping wasn't as thorough in this room.”

“People bring cats on board?” Dean asked as they walked away from the door.

“No,” Castiel replied, “But that hair gets everywhere. I had to lint roller my pants six times before heading down to the casino.”

So he has a cat. No big deal, the cat is not here, and Dean would likely never meet him back on land.

But another thought occurred to Dean and he let his lips curl upwards happily.

“You were gussying up for me, weren't you?”

Castiel hummed and paused in the hallway. He stepped up to Dean, close, far too close for casual, and slid a hand behind Dean's neck, pulling him closer still. The press of lips was not fierce, but Castiel deepened it quickly, so quickly that Dean felt like his soul was being licked.

Which is why it was so shocking when Castiel parted abruptly, leaving Dean breathless and dumb.

“Yes,” Castiel answered, “I did.” Before Dean's brain could catch up, Castiel was moving down the hallway again, saying, “I'll see you at breakfast, Dean.”

Dean watched him leave before heading back to his room.

Sam wasn't there when Dean got back, so he wasn't there to tease Dean for striking out. Which suited Dean just fine. He hadn't struck out at all, and he wasn't in the mood to explain that. The simmer was still there, and he was dying to act on it, but after the robbery and dealing with security and a hysterical rich man, the mood and moment had passed, and he understood that.

Now that the anticipation was ten fold, Dean had a feeling that tomorrow was going to be a good day.

* * *

Dean got to breakfast early. He beat Sam even, whose tired form had come strolling in as they were leaving, but he hadn’t wanted to risk missing Cas.

The possibility of seeming overeager didn’t remotely occur to him until after he was already seated in the main dining hall.

He needn’t worry too long, fortunately, for Cas showed up a few minutes after the butterflies started. Castiel smiled when he spotted Dean and all of the bugs in his gut suddenly turned into a head rush.

After breakfast, Castiel offered to take Dean on a tour of the ship. Though Dean couldn’t have cared less about the structure of the cruise liner, he did care a great deal about all the making out they did in various nooks and crannies of the ship. Dean was about to pull Cas into the nearest free room when he pointed out that it was lunch time.

The sexual frustration could not have been plainer on Dean’s face, so Cas laughing at him as he lead the way back to the dining room only made his dick grumpier. Cas was a damn tease, and he was enjoying making Dean wait.

Why was that so fucking hot?

Cas sent him looks all through lunch, but when they were done eating, he asked if Dean would like to check out the ice skating. Dean really couldn’t care less about ice skating, but then Castiel told him that something about gliding on the ice made his pulse pound, and Dean decided he could try to care about it a little bit.

Ice skating was filled with touches as Castiel took his hand and lead him across the ice. Dean wasn’t particularly good at skating, having never done it before, so Castiel was “helping” by placing his hands on Dean’s hips. Dean was ready to shove the sexy man into a wall and dry hump him when the bastard suggested dinner at one of the clubs and then dancing.

“Dancing?” Dean asked.

They were outside, walking the deck that overlooked the pool. Children were screaming as they rushed down the spiraling slide. Dean was really grateful Cas hadn't suggested the pool yet. Though perhaps the most prominent feature of a cruise ship, it held the least interest for him.

Castiel stopped walking, pushed Dean into the wall, and pressed in close. “Dancing,” he confirmed with a filthy gyration of his hips into Dean's that sent sparks shooting in front of Dean's eyes.

Dean groaned and reached for Castiel's hips, wrapping his fingers around them and pulling him in tight.

“What do you say we skip the dancing and—”

Castiel gyrated again before pulling sharply away. He shook his hips as he walked away. “Dancing,” he repeated. “Actually, dinner first. I'll meet you at Mr. Sushi in an hour.”

Dean's eyes never left Castiel's perfectly round ass, shimmying like he was channeling Beyoncé.

Okay, so dinner and dancing it was.

Wait. Did he say sushi?

* * *

Dean beat Cas to the restaurant. He wasn't anxious exactly. He'd simply showered, picked out the jeans that hugged his ass like saran wrap that even Sam didn't know he'd packed, a close fitting t-shirt without blood stains or rips, brushed his teeth, shaved, slapped on some aftershave, and headed straight out.

It wasn't his fault he was fast at getting ready.

And it surely didn't mean anything that he was pacing around in front of the sushi restaurant in anxious anticipation.

Well, it meant he was horny as fuck and ready to get laid by a gorgeous, captivating man. But who could blame him?

“You smell delicious,” Castiel purred in his ear. Dean jumped, he had no idea Castiel had shown up.

“Jesus,” Dean exclaimed. “Are you sure you're not a ninja?”

Castiel smirked, took Dean's hand, and lead him into the restaurant.

“Have you had sushi before, Dean?” Castiel asked after they were seated. Dean shook his head no. “I apologize, I hadn't even considered... In any case, if you can keep an open mind, I think you'll enjoy it. And if you don't like the food, I'll make sure you at least enjoy the experience.”

Dean wasn't quite sure what he meant by that, so he let Castiel take the lead. He ordered the rolls, while Dean ordered his own beer, and Castiel selected his usual martini.

The waiter delivered their food and Dean reached for his fork. Castiel covered his hand with his own. He picked up a pair of chopsticks and said, “Let me.”

Dean watched as Castiel pinched a piece of sushi between the two sticks and brought it to Dean's mouth.

“This is a California roll, it has crab, avocado, and cucumber. Crab is always cooked, if that was a concern,” Castiel explained. “Try it.”

Dean eyed the roll warily but let Castiel guide the piece into his mouth. He chewed slowly, but soon enough, the flavors of crab mixed with the rice and other stuffings and Dean had to admit it wasn't bad. Different, but not bad.

“Well?” Castiel asked.

“I haven't decided yet,” Dean confessed. “You may have to feed me another bite with those fancy sticks of yours.”

Castiel chuckled and complied. “This one has shrimp in it. Shrimp is also always cooked.”

Dean nodded as he ate this one. He suspected his liked it better because the roll was fried and topped with a cream. He was never a big fan of rabbit food, even if it was rolled up with seafood.

“I don't know,” Dean said slyly. “I think I should try another. And uh, you'll have to do it, I can't work those things.”

“You know, Dean,” Castiel began, scooping up another selection of the roll, “sushi was originally eaten with fingers. And honestly, no one would mind if you really wanted to use a fork.” He held the piece up. “This one has salmon and cream cheese. They call it a Philadelphia roll. It's one of my favorites.”

Dean groaned when he tried this one. The combination of salmon and cream cheese really sparked across the flavor pallet.

That was something people who cared about food said, right?

“Yeah, I can eat that one,” Dean admitted. “But maybe you should feed me one more, only, you know, in the traditional way.”

He caught Castiel's eye and they were full of mirth. “If you insist.”

Castiel pinched another piece of the Philadelphia roll between his fingers and raised it to Dean's mouth. Dean carefully wrapped  his lips around the morsel, taking a good section of Castiel's thumb and index finger into his mouth. He licked his tongue under the roll and between the digits, flicking into the soft spot where they connected at the palm. Castiel's breath hitched.

He slid the piece out of Castiel's hand and ate, watching Castiel's eyes dilate. When Dean was done chewing, Castiel took a long sip of his martini and then said, “I think it's my turn.”

“Yes,” Dean agreed. “Here I've been eating away while you must be starved.”

“Ravenous.”

Dean smirked, picked up another piece from the Philadelphia and brought it to Castiel. If he had any notions about Castiel playing fair, they went out the window as he not only managed to lick Dean's fingers, but actively sucked on them before pulling away to eat his food.

The rest of the meal was nothing but an erotic foreplay. The fact that they were being nourished was a secondary bonus that meant little.

“So,” Castiel said, when they were done. “To the nightclub?”

Dean groaned. “You have to be kidding me. You still want to dance?”

“C'mon,” Castiel said, holding out his hand.

He lead Dean to the nightclub where the bass of some techno crap pounded through the air and the floor. It made Dean's eardrums throb. Some attempt had been made at placing techno lighting throughout the room, and colorful lights whirled throughout, bouncing off dancers and furniture, not quite reaching the bar to the side, where a few people seemed to be taking a break. Dean glanced at the huge modern beast of a clock on the wall above the bar. It was only seven thirty in the evening, how could anyone need a break already?

Castiel pulled him straight to the dance floor, where Dean expected some more grinding to happen. He was only sort of wrong. There was rubbing and delicious friction, but there was also smooth movement of undulating hips, hands grasping and grazing over skin, mouths getting close enough to ears and necks to send the blood rushing. It was unlike anything Dean had ever experienced before.

When they finally took a break and made for the bar, Dean did a quick check to see if they were getting dirty looks. Either for the very public display of affection, or just for being two guys, but no one there seemed to care in the least. One guy in the corner even gave him a bro nod.

“I apologize, Dean,” Castiel said as their drinks were handed over. “You’re panting, perhaps I’ve been a little too rough with you.”

His eyes twinkled and Dean had picked up on his humor well enough to know he was being teased.

“It’s alright, Cas,” Dean replied, sipping his beer, “I like it rough.”

Castiel’s eyebrows inched up. “Is that so?”

“Oh yeah,” Dean told him, casually taking another sip and twirling the bottle in his fingers. “I like a man who can take me to my knees.”

For once, Cas was the one rendered speechless. After dropping that not-even-remotely-subtle hint, Dean headed straight back out to the dance floor, moving his ass as much as humanly possible. Castiel followed him, but it was at a pause.

They danced—if one could call it that, Dean thought “foreplay” was much more accurate—for a while longer, until their erections were pressing too hard and obviously and repeatedly into each other that Dean couldn't stand it anymore. He pulled Cas close and said into his ear, “We need to get out of here and get naked, like, yesterday.”

Castiel nodded,thank god, and took his hand and led them off the dance floor in nearly a run.

“My room is the other way,” Dean said, though he had no idea how he had the presence of mind to think that. His head was rushing.

“We're going to mine,” Castiel said. “I have a suite. King size bed. Hot tub. Champagne.”

“You had me at _bed_.”

Castiel pulled him faster. Through a door, down a hallway, through a bedroom door.

“Shit,” Dean groaned as Castiel slammed his door shut behind him and shoved Dean into the wood with his tongue. Castiel moved quickly to his neck, sucking a mark into the skin while his hand groped at Dean's shirt, pulling it up. He broke his lip-to-skin contact just long enough to remove the shirt, and then his mouth was locked around Dean's nipple.

“Fuck, Cas!”

Castiel pulled off with a pop. “I've been meaning to ask, when did I give you permission to use that nickname?”

His voice was even deeper than normal, gravelly with lust and need. It went straight to Dean's head.

“What would you prefer I call you? Sir?” Dean teased. Castiel's eyes dilated and Dean knew the answer. He groaned. “Do we need a safe word?”

“You did say you liked it rough,” Castiel reminded him, his hands skimming around the waistband of Dean's jeans, toying with the sensitive skin just barely concealed.

“I do,” Dean said. He groaned again as Castiel popped the fly of his jeans and unceremoniously gripped his cock through his boxers. His mouth worked at Dean's shoulder. “Fuck yes. Top the shit out of me, Cas.

“I plan on it.”

“Impala,” Dean said, out of nowhere.

“What?” Cas responded, stopping the jerks he was doing on Dean's clothed cock and pulling back to look him in the eye.

Dean swallowed. “The safe word. In case we need it.”

“You came up with that rather quickly,” Castiel observed, sliding his hand into the band of Dean's boxers. “Done this before?” He lowered all of Dean's lower garments with one shove.

“Uh...” Dean said, throwing his head back against the door. “Kinda.”

Castiel gripped his cock at the base and stared at it like the tip of his penis was staring back. The thought made Dean giggle.

Castiel glanced up at him with fire in his eyes. “Do I amuse you?”

“Sorry,” Dean said quickly.

“Sorry...?” Castiel prompted. When Dean didn't respond, he pinched Dean's thigh.

“Ow! Sorry, Sir!” Dean chirruped.

“Good boy.”

Castiel wrapped his lips around Dean's cock and swallowed the thing like it was made for his throat.

“Oh my god!” Dean said breathlessly. His fingers found themselves in Castiel's hair without him giving them conscious approval to do so, but Castiel didn't complain, so he didn't move them.

Castiel's mouth, like everything else about him, was sinful. He sucked as he glided up and down Dean's length, adding a twist with his hand and a flick of the tongue that was driving Dean insane. All of the blood in his body had to be in his dick by now.

The pace was relentless and Dean would be coming fast and hard if Castiel didn't pull up a bit.

Which is of course why Castiel stopped as suddenly as he had started.

Dean let out the most frustrated sound he had ever made in life as his head thumped against the door one more time.

“Oh, I'm sorry, Dean,” Castiel said, not sounding sorry at all. He stood up from the floor and leaned in close, bracing himself against the door, arms pinning Dean in, and placed his lips at Dean's ears. “Were you wanting to come?” He said softly. “I bet you're on edge, after two days of lacking release.”

“How did you—”

“You wouldn't be so desperate if you had masturbated,” Castiel told him. “I must say, I'm impressed by your control, Dean. I didn't even ask you to do that.”

“I was too anxious to get back to you to even think about it,” Dean confessed. His dick was cooling in the air now, as Castiel was carefully keeping his hips pulled away.

Castiel purred at his confession. “You're amazing, Dean,” he told him. “I did not have so much control. I've orgasmed twice since we met, both times thinking about how my cock would look down your throat.”

Dean took several deep breaths, trying to calm his heart and libido just enough to be able to think properly again.

“How about you put your cock down my throat now,” Dean proposed. “Sir.”

Castiel's lips parted and his eyes traced the curve of Dean's.

“As you wish,” he said throatily, like a sexy purr. “Lay on the bed, on your back, head at the foot.”

Dean scrambled to comply, kicking his jeans and shoes off the rest of the way, making himself as completely naked as Castiel was completely dress. He hastily climbed onto the bed and flopped unceremoniously on his back, his dick bobbing against his stomach.

“Have you done this before? I don’t want to hurt you,” Castiel stated.

“I can handle it,” Dean replied with a wink. His view of Castiel was upside down, making it look like the man towered over him. “Hey um, Cas, you’re going to have to take your clothes off at some point.”

Castiel grinned. “Maybe, but for right now…” He let the sentence hang as he unbuttoned his pants, popped the button on his boxers, and slid his hand inside the fabric. Dean watched with hungry eyes as he guided his cock through the slit of the material.

Dean licked his lips as Castiel guided his cock to Dean. In this position, his pelvis was at the same height as Dean was on the bed. In fact, if he scooted his head off the bed, it would make a more direct line for Castiel’s cock to slide down his throat.

He groaned at the thought, his own cock releasing a dribble of pre-come.

“Hang on,” Dean barely got out. Castiel paused, though by the heavy breathing and look in his eye, he was just about as done as Dean was with waiting.

Dean scooched until his head was over the edge.

“What—”

“Trust me,” Dean murmured. Castiel nodded. “Okay, Cas, just a reminder. I do like it rough, I can take you to the root, but if I can’t breathe for too long, I’ll snap my fingers twice.”

Castiel nodded again. “I understand,” he said, his voice rough and sexy as fuck.

“Then what are you waiting for?”

Castiel grinned and once again took hold of his cock and guided it to Dean’s lips. Dean flicked his tongue out at the tip as it came close enough and was rewarded with a hitch in Castiel’s breath. This was going to be amazing.

Slowly, his cock entered Dean’s mouth. Dean hallowed and sucked, stroking the shaft with his tongue. Encouraged, Castiel began to thrust shallowly into Dean. He tested going deeper, and Dean relaxed his throat on the entry. His gag reflex stayed in check.

Castiel let himself get deeper and deeper until he was in as deep as he could go. Dean’s eyes and nose were in Castiel’s scrotum. It was a particularly odd view, especially being upside down, but fortunately Cas didn’t smell and wasn’t overly hairy.

He was, however, terribly turned on.

Castiel pulled back before Dean had to snap his fingers, remembering to let him get a breath. Then he pushed back in and slid back down Dean’s throat.

“Oh my god,” he said, his voice full of amazement. “I can see my cock in your throat, Dean.” His hand wrapped around the curve of Dean’s throat. “I’m touching myself through your throat.”

Dean couldn’t respond, so he hummed.

“Ahh-hh!” Castiel cried with a hitch. “Fuck.”

He seemed to have forgotten how to move, so Dean reached his arms out and found the top of his thighs. Pulling gently, he got Cas to resume what he’d started. He pulled out, Dean took a breath, and Cas pushed back in.

Once Dean got him going, he was more than willing to fuck Dean’s throat mercilessly. His balls were sweating with endorphins, he was panting above Dean, and every now and then, Dean got a taste of pre-come on his tongue.

Dean’s body was on fire, he couldn’t wait any more. He moved a hand from Castiel legs to his cock and began to pump himself.

He would have come so fast, too, if Castiel hadn’t seen the movement and put an immediate end to the motion. He didn’t say anything, he simply reached for Dean’s hand and pulled it off his cock. Then he took the other one, still on his thigh, and moved it to his chest. Holding both of Dean’s wrists tight against his torso, Castiel began thrusting harder.

There was a puddle of pre-come forming on Dean’s stomach and he was mindlessly thrusting his own hips into empty air.

“Oh,” Castiel breathed out suddenly. “No— _shit_.”

He pushed himself to the root and came, emptying himself straight down Dean’s throat.

Dean tried to swallow but when Cas pulled out, he ended up sitting up, choking to clear his airways.

“Oh god,” Castiel said, releasing his wrists and stepping back. “I’m so sorry.”

Dean waved his hand. “I’ll be fine.” The meaning of his words was not helped by how raspy his voice came out. He’d need a huge glass of water when this was done.

Castiel still look mortified. Which was not helping how ridiculous he looked, fully dressed, a softening cock hanging out, and a wide-eyed face of stupor and horror.

Dean reached out a hand to him.

“Seriously, you just caught me off guard. That was amazing, Cas,” Dean told him. It really was. Rough without being compassionless, brutal. Cas knew where to draw the line.

“Well it certainly was for me,” Castiel replied. “I had no intention of coming so soon in the evening.”

“It’s all good,” Dean said with a grin. “I think you achieved the point of all this. Care to return the favor now?” He added a sinful little wiggle of his hips.

Castiel shook his head no and Dean’s smile faltered. “You’re not allowed release until I’m balls deep in your hole,” Castiel said, his face no longer showing a hint of insecurity or concern.

A groan left Dean’s lips. “You just came,” he said. “You’re seriously going to make me wait until we can go again?”

Castiel glanced down at his cock, over at Dean’s still full and unsatisfied one, and said, “I don’t think you’ll have to wait long.” His grin turned feral, sending a shiver down Dean’s spine. “Besides, I know how we can pass the time.”

He opened up his bedside drawer and pulled out a bottle of lube and a condom packet.

“As fun as that position was, I think you may want to resume the normal one for this.”

Dean didn’t need to ask what ‘this’ was. Though, no doubt Castiel had meant for him to be on his back, he crawled on the bed, positioning himself on all fours, his ass in the air.

“I think we were made for each other,” Castiel chuckled as he came up behind Dean.

The lube popped as Castiel opened it and moments later there was a finger pressed against Dean’s hole. Castiel teased his rim for a moment, circling around it, because apparently “Professional Tease” was his actual job description.

“Hnnngh,” Dean protested. “Caasssss.”

“Shhh,” Cas admonished, slapping his butt cheek with his other hand. “I’m watching your hole flutter for me.”

Dean blushed. That wasn’t something that happened often. “You’ve got a bit of a dirty talk kink, don’t you?”

“Not exactly,” Castiel replied, finally beginning to push in with his finger. “It was described to me once as not having a filter. I think it’s accurate.”

“Yeah, that does actually—” Dean cut off with a gasp as Castiel plunged his finger in the rest of the way. “Good god.”

Castiel groaned as he wiggled his finger. “You’re so tight. And hot. And perfect.”

He pulled his finger out and pushed it back in. Again and again, Dean relaxing more and more on each thrust. Then Cas turn his finger and pressed down, and… oh holy shit.

It normally took a bit longer to find his prostate, but Cas had narrowed in on it instantly. Dean grasped Castiel’s bedspread and held on tight as Castiel began to rub. His cock was leaking everywhere.

Though apparently his cock leaking everywhere and his brain oozing out with it was not enough for Castiel. He slid his free hand down Dean’s butt cheek to his balls and cupped them gently in his hand, fondling him. Dean’s blush deepened, and so did his breath.

A second finger was added to the first and pushed in with minimal resistance. As Castiel pushed two fingers against his prostate, his other hand went from his balls to his cock and pumped twice.

“Ahhh—” Dean began to shout. Castiel cut it off by withdrawing his hand sharply to tug on his balls. “Fuck!” It had hurt enough to stop the impending orgasm, and not a drop more painful.

“No coming. Not yet.”

“Then stop touching my dick and groping my prostate.”

“No,” Castiel told him. “I like you like this. Do you have any idea how hot you are right now?”

“Do you have any idea how much come I’m drooling on your blankets?”

Castiel chuckled. “Should I make you lick it up?”

Dean gasped as another pulse of pre-come dribbled onto the sheets. He had no idea a little bit of humiliation would push his buttons until today.

“You seem to like that idea,” Castiel nearly purred. “We could pause and do that, or I could fuck you like I was about to.”

“That,” Dean rushed to spit out. “The second. Oh god yes, _hurry up_.”

Castiel ripped open the foil packet of the condom and Dean turned around to look. He was still fully clothed. It made Dean feel dirtier, pushed at that newly discovered humiliation kink, and Dean wondered if Castiel had stayed clothed for that reason.

A hand was placed at Dean’s back a second before he felt Castiel’s cock at his hole. He was breached slowly, too slowly, and he tried to wiggle backwards.

Castiel huffed. “I’m giving me time to adjust as much as you. Whatever experience you have Dean, it’s been awhile, hasn’t it?”

Dean worked his jaw for a moment, uncomfortable that Castiel had soused that out.

“I can take it.”

“I know,” Castiel murmured. He didn’t speed up though, and it seemed to be forever until he bottomed out.

Dean expected him to stay there for a while, just warming his cock on Dean’s ass, but he paused only for a second before pulling out and driving back in. Dean smacked his palm against the wall to brace himself. As Castiel worked quickly into a forceful pace, he really hoped the other side was a storage room or something equally unoccupied. Otherwise they were getting an earful.

“Fuck, yes,” Dean said. “Harder, Cas. I know you can.”

Castiel leaned over and growled in his ear. “Don’t test me.”

Dean turned back enough to growl back, low and steady, “Tested.”

Castiel rumbled in his ear, pulled back, and suddenly Dean needed two hands to keep from going through the wall. Two hands wrapped around his hips and forced Dean back into Castiel’s thrusts. He was going to have bruises there later and his head was dizzy with it.

He took his hand off the wall, intending to reach for his cock, but of course Castiel noticed.

“Keep both hands on the wall, Dean,” he ordered, voice low and commanding. “Or I will pull out and end this.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“I could also hold your hands behind your back, if you lack such self-control.”

Given that he was driving into Dean like a man possessed, less than an hour after having buried himself in Dean’s throat and coming without intent, Dean thought that was a little rich. But that was the dynamic they had at play here, wasn’t it? And as bad as he wanted to come, he was pretty thrilled with that dynamic.

He slapped his hand back against the wall with more force than was needed. Both as a petty show of disapproval, and because he wasn’t necessarily fully in control of his limbs at that moment.

Castiel pushed down on his back, forcing him into an arch, and the angle of penetration changed. Instead of just feeling good, Castiel was driving across his prostate. Dean’s hand flinched on the wall, wanting to move where it was needed. He clenched his fist and kept it in place.

But oh, was this a game? Castiel moved his hands from Dean’s hips to his back, tracing a finger down the curve of his spine towards his scalp where he pushed his fingers in Dean’s hair. Nails scraped across his scalp.

The sensation was too much when combined with a steel rod hammering into him and across his pleasure spot, the metal bite of a zipper stinging his ass on every thrust. His hand flinched on the wall again, but, with an act of god, managed to keep it planted there.

Those damn hands moved again, reaching down Dean thighs. Castiel raked his nails up Dean’s skin, moving inwards as he went, only to divert at the top, making a line up Dean’s chest.

When his nipples were placed between two fingers and pinched, the game was over. Blood pounded through his body and all reasoning and capacity for self-control vanished. His hand came clean off the wall and went straight for his straining dick.

Castiel, being a motherfucking ninja, intercepted his hand, and his arms were crossed over his back and held in place. Dean face planted in the pillows with a grunt.

His toes curled with arousal and need and his cock oozed even more onto the bed below. He loved restraint and could never explain why. Considering how many times it was used against him, he should hate it.

Maybe that’s what made it so hot in sex. Giving up control to someone who wanted to give him pleasure instead of pain or death.

“Cas,” Dean breathed. “I swear to god, if I don’t come soon, I’m going to go crazy.”

“Come on my cock,” Castiel said, like it was the obvious solution.

Dean shook his head quickly. “I can’t.”

“I lasted long because of the first orgasm, but I will come soon. And if you haven’t come by then, then you won’t come.”

Dean moaned, and his protest died in his throat, as Castiel’s orders nearly pushed him over the edge.

“More,” he pleaded. “My nipples, something.”

Keeping Dean’s arms pinned with one hand, Castiel used his other to get to Dean’s pecks again. He took a nipple between his fingers and pinched. Rolled. Scraped with a nail.

Dean screamed as he came. He was barely aware that his arms were suddenly free as Castiel shuddered, pushed in deep, and followed him into bliss.

Castiel panted above him, taking a moment before pulling out. He removed the condom, tossed it towards the bathroom, and collapsed next to Dean. Dean fell straight down, his crotch landing in a mess of his own making. For a moment, he didn’t even care.

Of course reality caught up a few seconds later.

“Yeck,” he said, rolling out of the spot. For some reason this was hilarious to him, so he laughed.

Castiel looked from him to the spot and his eyes went wide. “We better get you some water.”

“And a shower,” Dean agreed.

Castiel made him drink a bottle of water from the fridge before he would start the shower. Confident Dean wasn’t about to pass out from dehydration, he went to his ridiculously large bathroom and turned the shower on.

Dean climbed in, looked at Castiel and grinned. “You’ve sweated through those clothes. Care to join me?”

Castiel looked down at himself and grimaced. “Good idea.”

He finally got to see Castiel fully naked and it was glorious. He was a bit mad he’d been denied this view of the perfect planes of his hips and shapely pecs, muscular arms and strong legs.

Dean grabbed the soap and started on Castiel’s body, Castiel sighing happily. When Castiel was declared clean enough, he took the soap and began to clean Dean.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Castiel asked, the first words since they got in the shower.

“God no,” Dean assured him. “That was mind blowing. You’ll find my brain somewhere in that puddle on the bed, I’m sure.”

Castiel chuckled weakly. “I just… I thought maybe I’d pushed you too far at the end there. I hadn’t intended that bit. But you were so responsive, I thought maybe…”

“Hey, you were right.” Dean bowed his head forward as Castiel kneaded soap through his hair. “I’m not saying you should keep me that strung along every time, but—”

“But there will be a next time?”

“I was hoping for some lazy blowjobs after we get out of this shower and, ya know, change the sheets.”

Castiel smiled. “I like the way you think.”

* * *

When the alarm went off the next morning at what had to be the ass butt crack of dawn, Dean threw one of Castiel’s luxurious pillows in the general direction of the noise, muttered a complaint, and rolled over.

“Excursion day,” Castiel said, bouncing out of bed, far too cheery for the ass butt crack of dawn. “I’ve booked a trip to the Mayan ruins. And by happenstance, I have an extra ticket.”

“Mmmmph.” Dean didn’t even attempt to move his head out of the pillow. He could feel drool coating the down pillow beneath his cheek and still could not muster enough energy to move.

“Get out of bed, Dean, you’re coming with me.”

Dean didn’t respond. It was entirely by choice. He was a hunter, he could thrive off of two hours of sleep for several nights in a row. But he was on vacation and the luxurious bed lured him in.

Of course, Dean could be enticed by things beyond fine linen and down feathers. The bed dipped as Castiel sat down in the space by his side, shifted as Castiel leaned over him, and hot, wet kisses were pecked all along the back of Dean’s neck.

Dean hummed happily.

“Dean,” Castiel whispered in his ear before taking the lobe into his mouth and sucking on it. He released it with a lick. “If you don’t come with me, how will I blow you behind the statue of a Mayan god?”

A hand was sliding down Dean’s backside and over the skin of his buttcheek. He’d never managed to get out of bed to put his boxers back on. Something Castiel took advantage of as he slid a finger into the top of Dean’s crevice.

He gasped at the feeling, jarring him out of the fuzziness of sleep. “Shit, Cas, fuck me now and you can take me wherever you want.”

“No time,” Castiel said, his hand skating away. “Later. I’m making promises for later, and I think you experienced just last night how good I am on keeping my promises.”

“Fine,” Dean groaned, rolling onto his side to face Cas. “I have to change. Meet you at…”

“Disembarkation,” Castiel supplied, which helped Dean not at all. He must have made a face because Castiel laughed fondly. “Just meet me at the main dining hall and we’ll go from there.”

“Okay,” Dean said, getting out of bed and starting to gather his clothes. “But that blow job offer better be worth it.”

Castiel winked.

* * *

 

The walk of shame never really bothered Dean, as that would imply a humiliation he didn’t feel, but Dean was nonetheless prepared to be teased for not coming back last night by Sam. Fortunately, he wasn’t in the room. And wherever he’d gone, he’d apparently made his bed first. What a dork.

Dean showered fast and changed into his jeans and a loose, black AC/DC shirt. A quick shave of his face and a brush of his teeth, and Dean was out the door. He headed straight for the dining room, ready for Cas to show him how you get off this boat.

Turns out, you take another, smaller boat out. As they glided across the water and waves, salty air skimmed through his short strands and the sun warmed his skin. He could see why some people appreciated this vacation.

The bus ride to the ruins was less enjoyable, though Cas spent most of it fondling him through his jeans and sucking on his ear, making him crazy horny, so it had its perks.

Dean was much more interested in having Castiel’s tongue in his mouth than seeing ruins, but emptied the bus when instructed. As their tour guide, a portly Mexican named Antonio, led them through ancient Mayan grounds, he explained the history of the Mayan culture. Eventually, Dean had to admit that it wasn’t as boring as he thought it would be. Ball games where the _winner_ was sacrificed to the gods? Hardcore.

His only real regret with the day was that Sam wasn’t there. He would have eaten that shit up.

They were at their final stop, the complex where the famous step pyramid Chichen Itza was located, before Castiel made good on his promise.

Cas had been looking around the area, his eyes evaluating every nook he saw, when he stopped and smiled. He grabbed Dean’s hand and pulled him off the beaten path, away from the crowds where, sure enough, there was a pillar with etchings of Mayan gods carved into it. He shoved Dean against it so that the pillar was a wall between them and the rest of the area, pulled his pants down, his cock out, and devoured Dean.

Dean stuffed his fist in his mouth after the initial yelp he let out. What they were doing was illegal. Jesus shit, though could end up in a dirty Mexican jail cell.

Terror fled quickly when Castiel swirled his tongue across the head of Dean’s dick as he hollowed his cheeks and sucked deeply. Dean was hard within seconds, deep throated in the next, and coming within minutes.

He flopped his head irreverently against the stone behind him, dizzy with how quick everything had happened. Castiel tucked him into his boxers with a smirk and zipped him up. “C’mon Dean, it’s time to rendezvous with the group.”

“Nnnngah,” Dean mumbled, unable to find any actual words in his vocabulary.

“I hope you’re not overly exerted just yet,” Castiel said. “I made you two promises, and one involved my bed.”

Dean’s eyes snapped open. A slow grin spread across his face. “Oh yeah.”

“I scheduled a massage at the spa for first thing after we get back though, I hope you don’t mind.”

“What?” Dean asked, finding enough strength to stand without the support of the pillar. “Do I honestly look like a guy that would enjoy a trip to a spa?”

Castiel looked him up and down in a way that was entirely too unsettling. “As a matter of fact, you look exactly like a guy that secretly enjoys many things you outwardly consider too feminine.” He had taken several steps towards the main area before he added, “I wouldn’t mind seeing you in panties one day.”

Dean’s jaw dropped and a thrill of fresh arousal went through him. There’s no way Castiel could have known about Rhonda Hurley. But he did seem to understand Dean in a strangely profound way.

It might actually suck to have to end this when they got back to Florida.

* * *

The massage was, actually, pretty fucking amazing. And Dean could understand where after a hot day in the sun and a lot of walking, a relaxing spa trip made sense. Hands worked at knots and muscle Dean didn’t even know were tense. He moaned unapologetically through all of it, Castiel shooting him grins from time to time.

His muscles felt like jelly by the time they were done with their massage. It occurred to him that extra flexible right now, and he wondered if Castiel had any ulterior motives when he booked the spa time. Knowing Castiel as he was beginning to know him, he probably had meant it as both a treat and a preparation.

Dean realized suddenly that he was not only feeling more relaxed, he was happy, too. He was having a good time, finally beginning to see the perks of this relaxation thing. Which is probably why the universe had decided it was time to throw him a curveball.

They were on their way through the reception area of the spa when a guy slumped through the door and asked if they could take a walk-in. He loudly proclaimed that he needed to destress, after the trauma of having his room robbed.

The attendant tried to quiet him, but Dean and Cas were still able to hear about how his suite had been ransacked, even though nothing had been found missing. And worse, as he told the masseuse, his friend’s room had been raided too.

“Cas,” Dean whispered, pulling him to the side the second they were in the hallway, “These aren’t robberies. Someone is looking for something.”

Castiel swallowed. He looked like he’d seen a ghost.

“Or someone,” he whispered.

Dean blinked. “Cas, they’re searching drawers and stuff. You don’t find a human in a duffle bag.” Then he grimaced, remember one particularly unpleasant case of theirs from a few years ago. “Or at least, you shouldn’t.”

Castiel swallowed again. “Yes, of course, you’re right.”

He still didn’t look settled. Not even a little. His eyes were wide with fear and his breathing was sharper.

“You worried?”

Castiel shrugged. “No, it’s fine. I’m sure the ship’s security is doing a fine job.”

“I can look into it—”

“No,” Castiel said, holding up his hand, palm out. “You’re relaxing and I’m being silly. Let’s just… find a way to make use of our newly relaxed and flexible limbs.”

Well. That answered Dean’s earlier ponderance.

Castiel took him back to his room and fucked him so thoroughly that he doubted his limbs would ever work again. They took a shower together while waiting for room service and then somehow managed to go at it again. And again, when Castiel woke up two hours later and then woke Dean up by licking across his well-used ass.

“Nnngh,” Dean protested. “I don’t know if I can, Cas.”

“I thought you liked it rough,” Castiel teased, pausing long enough to speak before swiping at the puckered skin again with his tongue. “We don’t have to, of course. I could bottom.” His tongue flickered across the hole.

Dean groaned into his pillow. “Your tongue should be illegal.”

The response was a hum, vibrating through Castiel’s tongue as he licked. He slid a fingertip inside, licking alongside it. There was a twinge of pain, but Dean liked to be fucked hard, and Castiel was good with prep. He could go again.

Castiel press his lips around Dean’s rim and sucked.

“Ah!” Dean screamed. “Fuck! Yeah, okay, Cas, fuck me. Fuck me now, god damn it, get the condoms.”

Castiel was more gentle this time than the previous, something Dean appreciated. He could have taken Dean hard again, and honestly, Dean would have enjoyed that too, but he was showing concern with his midnight booty call, and it made him feel good in ways that didn’t have to do with his dick.

Dean clenched the sheets and shook when came for the fourth time that day, Castiel following him right off the edge, pressing kisses to his neck.

* * *

Needless to say, Dean was a well fucked man by the next day, and the grin on his face felt permanent.

He stopped by his own room to shower and change, noting, again, that Sam was already up, and then headed to the main dining hall for breakfast. Sam walked in a few minutes later sporting his own grin.

“Hey,” Dean said as Sam took his seat. “You finish that book you’ve been on about? Win at the slots?”

“More like the second,” Sam answered. “What have you been up to?”

Castiel walked through the door then, so Dean’s answer was simply, “Him.”

Sam rolled his eyes, but nonetheless leaned over to watch Castiel approach. “He’s cute,” Sam admitted. “And scared.” Sure enough, Cas was wringing his hands and his breathing was visibly stilted. If someone had said ‘boo’ he’d probably fall over.

As Sam was asking what was going on, Dean ignored him and threw his chair back. He walked as fast as he could across the dining hall without running and drawing attention, and he could feel Sam following behind him.

“What’s wrong,” Dean demanded, his voice low. He took Cas by the elbow and led him to the side of the room.

Castiel swallowed before starting. “The gentleman three doors down from my room was hit over the head this morning, and his room had been similarly searched and destroyed as the others,” Castiel explained. “People are getting hurt, Dean. Security wouldn’t tell me a thing, kept telling me to head to breakfast, that they had it covered. But… It has to be the same culprit.”

“Yeah,” Dean agreed, his face stern. “He probably interrupted him.”

“God, Dean,” Castiel whimpered, dropping his face into his hands. “He looked awful. He could have been killed—”

“That’s it,” Dean said. “We’re taking over.”

“What?” Castiel said, looking up.

“We’ve got contacts and a different way of doing things than cruise ship security. We can figure this out, right, Sam?”

Sam startled at his name being called.

“What?”

“We’ll help find the person who is trashing all the fancy bastards’ rooms.”

“Hey,” Castiel mumbled in protest.

“Okay, hold up, let’s go back at least four steps here,” Sam said, uncrossing his arms and stepping closer. “Hi, I’m Sam, his brother.”

Sam offered his hand and Castiel shook it. “Nice to meet you, Sam,” Castiel said. “Dean’s told me about you. I’m sorry to say that until now my only mission was to make you want to give me the protective brother speech.”

It was such an awkward thing to say that Dean laughed. Sam shot him a look and Dean just shrugged. “Well, trust me Sam, he’s doing a pretty good job.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “I’ll give you the speech later. Catch me up on what’s happening in the fancy quarters.”

Dean could tell that as they explained it all, Sam was thinking that this was not exactly their kind of thing. But he seemed willing to help and was ready to come with them to talk to the man Castiel had seen this morning. Dean mouthed him a thank you as they followed Castiel out of the dining hall.

They man seemed confused at first as to why they were asking, so Dean said they were with ship counseling and just wanted to check on him. When he recognized Castiel, Sam jumped in to say that Cas was the one who had suggested they check on him.

Unfortunately, most of the visit was spent with the guy—Donahue—blubbering uncontrollably. Worse, from what they were able to get out of him, he hadn’t really seen anything at all. He’d walked in just in time to be hit. The guy slipped out the door before he was able to get a look.

Though Donahue was being a bit absurd with the theatrics, Dean had to admit that he must have been hit pretty hard and he was lucky he didn’t need serious medical attention. He’d been hit in the head with a heavy souvenir of Chichen Itza he’d picked up in town. Gauze was tapped to the side of forehead, and another hunk was tapped to his arm.

“Bastard clawed me,” Donahue supplied, noticing Dean’s gaze.

“Really?” Dean asked, surprised. He shared a look with Sam, and knew instantly that he wasn’t the only one getting a funny feeling.

“Sir,” Sam started. “I worked as an EMT for years and sometimes scratches can be tricky for people to treat. Do you mind if I take a look?”

Donahue was still a little out of it, so he didn’t really question the pretty weak excuse. He plied at the tape and rolled the bandage up.

Castiel gasped when he saw the wound and looked away sharply.

It confirmed what Dean had suspected. Those were not scratches from human finger nails. They were both too wide and too deep. Ragged. Those were scratches from claws, not nails.

Again, Sam shared a look with Dean. While Sam prodded at the wound, Dean walked around the room.

At first he found nothing of interest, but then the light from the bathroom glanced off something on the carpet, something fine, and Dean leaned down.

It was another wiry hair, like the one Cas had found at the first crime scene.

His gut clenched. This was almost definitely becoming their kind of a case.

What the hell? Maybe Charlie was on to something. People can be monster magnets.

“Yeah, it looks clean,” Sam said, nodding. “Just be sure to keep, um, ointment, on it.”

Dean picked up the hair and stood.

They wished Donahue well and headed out. If Dean had thought that Castiel would be comforted by talking to the man, he was very wrong. He was twitchy and chewing on his thumbnail. Castiel’s nails were normally immaculate, he wasn’t a nail biter.

“Hey,” Dean said, taking the hand from his mouth. “Let’s get outside.”

The warm, salty air was an immediate relief, Castiel melting beside him. “Thank you, Dean,” he said.

The calmness lasted a full second before his eye caught something on a lower deck and he stiffened right back up.

“What?” Dean said, turning to look.

“I thought I saw…” Castiel mumbled, staring off into the distance. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Nothing. I’m sorry, I’m just a bit jumpy.”

Dean patted him on the back. “I’m going to talk to Sam for a minute. You’ll be okay out here?”

Castiel nodded, his fingers still pinching the bridge of his nose. “Yes, of course.”

“Just… sit down, okay?” He motioned to a bench and Castiel collapsed inelegantly into it.

Dean directed Sam back inside. The door clicked behind him, and he turned to look out the glass back to Castiel.

“He’s normally this suave, confident, sex god,” Dean said in a low tone.

Sam sighed. “I’m sure he is. What did you find back there?”

Dean showed him the hair. Sam didn’t recognize it right away but agreed that the presence of any animal hair in the immaculate rooms was unusual, especially when combined with the claw marks.

“I’ll call Charlie and get her on the ship’s manifest, try to find a connection between the victims. Beyond being rich and men. And I’ll send her a pic of the hair. She has more resources than us, maybe she can figure out something.” Dean let out a breath. “Going to cost a buttload with all the charges.”

“Sounds good,” Sam agreed. “And hey, don’t worry about the money right now.”

“Thanks, dude,” Dean said, clapping Sam on the shoulder. “Go have fun, get back to your book or whatever. I’ll let you know when I hear back from Charlie.”

Sam nodded. “Okay. Stay safe, Dean.” He looked back out the window in the door to Castiel and added, “And try to get him to have some fun. He’s freaked over what is probably nothing.”

Dean grinned, wide and filthy. “Oh, I will. I—”

“I don’t need to know the details, Dean!” Sam cried, walking away quickly.

Dean made sure the hallway was still clear and called Charlie. He explained things quickly, sending her the picture of the hair after they hung up.

He found Castiel where he’d left him and they sat on the bench together, watching people go down the giant, curvy slide, screaming all the way into the water. For a while, they didn’t talk, and Dean was okay with that. Eventually Cas took his hand and asked him if he was scared of anything.

“No,” Dean replied automatically. Because of course he was afraid of things, but explaining hell hounds to a business exec wasn’t going to get them anywhere.

“Everyone is afraid of something,” Castiel said. “Some people just hide it better.”

Dean couldn’t disagree with that. “Yeah,” he said.

“Please, Dean. I’m feeling silly and vulnerable. Humor me. What are you afraid of? Dying? Ghosts?”

Dean had to bite his lip not to laugh.

“Sam’s death, then,” Castiel proposed. “Maybe you once feared that he wouldn’t accept you being—”

“I never feared that,” Dean interrupted. “Once I figured out I was bi, I never once feared that Sam would see me any differently for it.”

“I didn’t know you were bisexual.”

Dean shrugged. “It’s not a big deal.”

“No,” Castiel agreed. “It isn’t.”

There was silence for a moment, which Dean took to mean that Castiel was letting the conversation drop. Something prompted Dean to speak anyway.

“I’m afraid I’m stupid,” Dean confessed. “That Sam thinks I’m stupid.”

Castiel’s mouth dropped in shocked. “Dean—”

“I never did well in school, never went to college. He got the brains, and I got—” he snorted, “—Daddy Issues?”

Dean startled when Castiel placed his hands on either side of Dean’s face. Carefully but forcefully, he turned Dean’s head until he couldn’t look anywhere but at Castiel’s perfect eyes.

“Listen to me, Dean,” Castiel began. “You are not dumb. I haven’t known you long, but I’ve seen how your brain works, and I’ve heard you reference classic literature without thought. You’re not dumb.” His thumb stroke Dean’s cheek and he continued. “Besides, intelligence isn’t everything. You love your brother and you’ve been taking care of me today, even though I’m being silly about all this, and you’ve only known me for a few days. You could be down there on the slide, or out playing mini golf. Climbing the wall, gambling at slots. And yet you spent your morning just sitting here with me.”

Dean tried to move away but Castiel held him close.

“I have not known you a long time, but the longer we spend together, the more time I wish we had. You’re smart, funny, kind, and your ass is truly a wonder to behold.”

A burst of laughter escaped from Dean’s chest.

“Dean,” Castiel said. “Of all the fears to have, please don’t let inadequacy be one of them.”

Their faces were close, Castiel holding them that way, so Dean did the only thing that made sense and surged forward to press their lips together.

They made out on the deck until someone walked by and make a strangled sound of surprise. Castiel pointed out that his room was around the corner, so they relocated to the giant, plush king-sized bed where they exchanged sloppy kisses and ended up bringing each other off slowly, fumbling to get pants open and out of the way, and then groping at the contents within until they were well satiated.

Castiel called room service for a late lunch. They were wrapping up when Charlie texted Dean that she needed to talk to him.

“I need to make a call,” Dean said, standing up and searching for his pants.

Castiel waved a hand. “Go,” he said. “Make your call, catch up with Sam. I could use some time to freshen up, maybe take a nap and recover from the turmoil of this morning. And the turmoil of what we just did,” he added with a leer. “Shall we meet for dinner at five? Main hall? It’s formal wear tonight.”

“I don’t know if I can find something formal in my duffle.”

Castiel grinned. “Don’t worry about that.”

* * *

Dean took his phone from his pocket as he walked along the outside deck towards his room. He was a little loopy with happiness, not in any hurry to call Charlie back.

An activity board caught his eye with one important word, and Dean paused in his tracks to look closer. The word had been “Bond” and the full text informed Dean that the swim up movie of the night was Skyfall. One of his favorite Bond movies of all time, the one Cas had claimed to not even know about.

He’d been letting Cas take the reins thus far, but perhaps it was time for Dean to make some plans.

He was smiling at the thought of taking Cas to a Bond movie when his phone vibrated a reminder. He unlocked his phone and pushed his thumb to Charlie’s shortcut.

“What’s frackin’ kraken?” Charlie’s voice answered.

Dean groaned. “You can do so much better than that.”

He could almost hear Charlie shrug. “You’re at sea, I could resist.”

“Uh huh.”

“Anyyyyway, I wanted to let you know that I haven’t found any connection between the vics,” Charlie told him.

“You’re wasting my roaming charges to tell me you don’t have anything?”

“Let me finish, Mr. Impatient. Damn, you can’t wait for anything can you?” Charlie asked.

“I’ll have you know I waited almost 24 hours to bang the hottest marine biologist north of the equator,” Dean replied. “It was torture.”

Charlie chuckled. Then, “Wait, you met someone? Is she pretty? Does she have red hair? Could you describe her tits in detail—”

Dean was laughing by the time she cut herself off. “Sorry Charlie, the biologist is a dude. And I’d go into detail about how hot he is, but you aren’t interested.”

“So you’re spending the entire cruise getting laid.”

Dean smiled wide, knowing Charlie would hear it in his voice. “Oh yeah. My ass is sore in all the right ways.”

A family with two young kids gasped, causing Dean to turn around sharply. He’d had no idea they were passing behind him. The dad looked mortified and tried to cover the ears of his two daughters and scurry them away from the deviant stranger, but the mom gave him an embarrassed look and stepped over.

“He doesn’t care about you being gay,” she told him. “He’s just a prude.” She patted him on the shoulder. “I saw you with him at Mr. Sushi. You looked great together. I wish you the best.”

Dean blinked twice and didn’t find words until she was already walking away. “Thanks.”

“Dean?” Charlie asked, calling his attention back to the phone at his ear. “Dean, are you still there?”

“Yeah,” Dean replied. “Sorry, a random mom was giving me and Cas her blessing. What were you about to say?”

“About that…” Charlie began. Dean’s stomach began to take on that vaguely nauseated feeling of certain, impending doom. “Did you say he’s a marine biologist?”

“Yeah.”

“And he’s the one you’re doing this for, the one who found the first hair and all that?”

“Yeah…”

“Well I put in some calls to my contacts and a hot zoologist from Cincinnati informed me that the hair is from a seal. Apparently it’s pretty obvious. Your marine biologist booty call should have recognized it.”

Ice cold water went straight down Dean’s spine. His jaw stiffened as he thought about how strange Castiel had been acting.

There was a sigh. “C’mon Dean, don’t do this to me. You’re on roaming in international waters, remember? If you need to go freak out, hang up first.”

“Yeah,” Dean said, swallowing past a new lump in his throat. “Yeah, I’ll do that. Thanks, Charlie. There’s nothing else, right? Sam isn’t harboring killer mermaids or anything?”

Charlie laughed. “If you guys meet a mermaid, promise you’ll send pics.”

“Always.”

“Good. Later gater,” Charlie said, but continued before Dean could hang up. “Oh, and Dean, if it helps, it sounds like you guys were having too much sex for him to be the one behind this. Don’t go ruining something great if you don’t have to.”

“Charlie—” Dean began, pinching his nose.

“Peace,” Charlie sang out in a goofy, deep tone, and then cut the line off.

Dean stared at his phone for several minutes, unmoving. She had a point. Castiel could have been working with someone and that’s why he lied about the hair, and why he didn’t personally commit all of the ransacks, but it didn’t sit right. He was genuinely scared earlier.

But he was also definitely lying about something, and that was a huge problem. It was time to get down to the truth.

* * *

 

When Dean got back to his room, there was a suit laid out on his bed. He pulled at the collar and, sure enough, it was monogrammed with CJM. Castiel J-something Milton. He had no idea how Cas had gotten it in his room, but he’d guess that he’d tipped room service well.

At any other time, Dean probably would have found the offer of wearing Castiel’s suit sexy. Maybe. Whatever, the point was that with the information and resulting questions currently sitting on his brain, the gesture came across as presumptive, insulting, and manipulative.

Dean gritted his teeth and stormed back outside where he paced for quite a while before he’d cooled down and finally thought things through. Castiel owed him an explanation. He’d get it at dinner. And to do that, he’d need a suit.

The formal dinner was less crowded than dinner had been on the first night, so he was able to snag a table to himself and glare at anyone who dared to think they could sit with him.

Castiel dropped into the chair next to him with a happy grin.

“I see you got the suit. I had to tip the maid quite handsomely for that service.”

Dean pressed the button on the side of his phone to turn the screen on and slid it to Castiel. His grin faltered at Dean’s coldness and then turned downright fearful.

“Level with me, Cas,” Dean said, his voice more steely than he’d ever wanted to use with his new lover. “You knew what this hair was, and you know what is going on. That’s why you’ve been acting so spooked. You’re not a coward, you wouldn’t care about losing a few possessions.”

Castiel didn’t respond, his attention focused on the phone.

“Tell me what’s happening. Tell me why you’ve been lying to me this entire time.”

Castiel swallowed, looking up. “I don’t know for sure what is going on, but you are right, I haven’t been honest with you.”

“Tell me.”

He put his face in his hands and ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. “You won’t believe me.”

“Try me.”

“I did, and it was wonderful.”

“Cas. Tell me.”

Castiel blew out a breath of resignation. “Fine. I suppose this is over anyway, isn’t it?” he asked. Dean didn’t respond. That was yet to be determined. “I’m a selkie.”

Dean wracked his brain for that term and came up short. “What?”

Castiel licked his lips. “You know werewolves?” Castiel finally asked. Dean nearly laughed but managed to only nod. “Like that, but with seals and no full moon.”

Ah, now that was familiar. He and Sam never dealt with water creatures, friendly or otherwise, but sometimes selkies were mentioned in shapeshifter tomes.

“So you’re telling me I’ve been sleeping with Flipper for the past few days?”

The waitress cleared her throat and Dean jumped. He hadn’t realized the waitstaff had begun service. The woman was holding a pitcher of water. Dean gestured grumpily at their water glasses and she filled them. When she was gone, he raised a questioning eyebrow to Castiel.

“Well? Did I let a dolphin pound my ass?”

“No,” Castiel said, emphatically. “No, I’m human when I’m in this shape. And Dean, I’ve been human for twenty years.”

“Okay,” Dean said, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. “I think you need to back up and start from the beginning.”

Castiel narrowed his eyes at Dean. “You’re remarkably calm about this,” he said. Dean stared him down. Castiel was under cross-examination, not him. “Fine. Hi Dean Winchester, my name is Castiel. That was the closest human pronunciation to my seal name under the seas. When I was a teenager, my brother died and I was blamed for it. I fled to land, where I adopted the last name of Milton, and used my knowledge to get ahead and make a living. I never went back to sea.”

“How did you know what to do when you got to land?”

Castiel’s lips turned up just slightly, wistful yet sad. “I spent years and years playing on the beaches. I’ve been doing that since I was a boy. Samandriel and I. We’d shed our sealskins and run in the sand. Our favorite spot had an abandoned beach house with books and games and puzzles. I read Paradise Lost fifteen times before I converted species.”

Dean was silent for a moment, mulling this over. Castiel’s eyes wandered over him appraisingly and he knew he was going to have to answer some questions too.

“You were spooked because you thought your brethren had found you and were going to make you pay.”

Castiel nodded.

“Did you do it?”

“What?”

“Kill your brother?”

Castiel gasped, fresh pain springing behind his eyes. “Not…” he had to swallow before continuing, “not intentionally.”

Dean nodded his understanding and decided he didn’t need to pry into that particular piece of history at this time. He believed Castiel.

“And what do you think is really going on here?” Dean asked. “Despite this revelation, my point stands. There is at least one other selkie on this ship, but they aren’t looking for you. What are they doing?”

Castiel shrugged. “I honestly don’t know what they are looking for. I’m not the only selkie to walk the land at great length, their motivations could be as diverse as anyone’s.”

That didn’t help them a whole lot. All they knew was that a selkie was on board and looking for something. Wait—

“Where are the hairs coming from?” Dean asked. “You aren’t exactly shedding.”

Castiel sighed. “No. I’d hoped that the hair I’d found that first time had come from my coat. Stuck to my shirt maybe. Or that I was wrong and it was a cat hair. But as you found more...whomever it is, they are carrying their sealskin with them.”

“Ah,” Dean said. Of course. Who wouldn’t just shed their skin and then carry it around with them, like a giant, personal coat.

Castiel was fiddling with the fork to his right. When Dean didn’t ask any more questions, he turned to look at him. “Are you angry, Dean? Freaked out? Why are you so calm?”

Dean bit his lip. “Yeah,” he finally said. “I didn’t tell you the whole truth about me either. I protect people, Cas, that part was true. What I didn’t say was that I protect them from werewolves. And vampires, and a ton of other shit you don’t want to know about.”

Castiel’s jaw fell open and the fork clattered as it dropped, hitting the knife on its way down.

“You little shit.”

“I know—”

“I was so worried about what you would think, if you’d forgive me for keeping this from you, and you’re a _hunter_?” Castiel chuckled as he shook his head. “Well, I guess we both had secrets to keep.”

“My secret wasn’t holding back vital information to solving the crimes happening on this boat.”

Castiel blushed. “I’m sorry. I was scared. And selfish. I didn’t want you to leave me or tell me my breath smells like fish.”

Dean laughed. “It doesn’t smell like fish.”

The waitress arrived with their main course and place two plates in front of them. The main dish was salmon.

Cas joined Dean in the laughter. The waitress appeared to have decided they were crazy and made a beeline out of there.

“Oh god,” Dean said. “You ate seafood at dinner our second night.”

“So?” Castiel asked, amused.

“Isn’t that like cannibalism?”

Castiel laughed at him so thoroughly that Dean blushed. “I’m sorry Dean, it’s just, what do you think seals eat? Mostly fish. That’s why I prefer sushi, it comes raw.”

“Oh,” Dean said. “Sorry, this is going to take a little getting used to.

Castiel’s grin faded and he played with his fork again. “Does that mean we’re okay?”

Unfortunately, Dean had to think about that one. He generally had a pretty strong stance on not hooking up with monsters. But Castiel wasn’t a monster. Not human? Definitely. (And boy were a lot of little quirks making a lot more sense now.) But not a monster.

One thing he knew was that he didn’t want this to end just yet. Whether or not he could get past sleeping with a fish was something he was less confident about.

“I think so,” Dean said. “We’ll figure it out as we go, anyway.”

Dinner continued peacefully, if not a little stilted. When Dean mentioned wanting to take Cas to the swim-in movie, Cas had smiled sweetly and said he’d love to. As neither seemed inclined to swim, they found an empty lounge area with couches on a balcony deck and settled in to watch the movie. They were a little further away than ideal, but the privacy was nice.

Dean wished he’d insisted on changing back into normal clothes, but Cas really did look damn fine in his suit, so he supposed it wasn’t all a bad thing.

Assuming it was okay to find seals-turned-human sexy at all.

Dean was pretty distracted during the movie and even jumped when Castiel’s hand brushed his.

“I’m enjoying this,” Castiel said. “Aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” Dean said, forcing a smile.

Castiel sighed. “Nothing has to change, you know.”

“It’s going to take time for my brain to believe that.”

“We’re on a cruise, Dean. We live in different cities. Time isn’t something we have a lot of,” Castiel reminded him.

“Hmm,” Dean hummed. Daniel Craig punched Javier Bardem in the mouth. “You’re missing the good stuff.”

Castiel turned back to the screen slowly. “I know,” he said softly.

Eventually Dean’s attention focused on the movie at hand. It was hard not to, with Daniel Craig’s badassery flaunting itself on a huge screen. Bond—any Bond—was always huge masturbation material for him. Looking over at Cas, Dean’s assessment stood. At least in terms of looks and suaveness, he easily could have been cast as Bond.

The thought had him putting Cas in as substitution for all of his Bond fantasies. Being fucked against a wall by double-o-seven himself, danger just around the corner.

He shifted as the fantasy continued, his cock hardening. It wasn’t long until he was straining against the delicate fabric of his borrowed pants.

Castiel noticed. His hand slid from Dean’s grasp, worked its way across Dean’s thigh, and squeezed his erection. Castiel’s eyes never left the movie screen.

“Jesus,” Dean breathed softly. He pushed into the hand and was rewarded with a new spike of pleasure.

Castiel kneaded him through his pants for the entire rest of the movie. Just when Dean thought he was either going to come in his pants or lose his mind, Castiel would back off, let him calm down, and start again.

When the movie was over, Dean grabbed Castiel’s hand and yanked him roughly in the direction of Castiel’s room. Castiel followed quickly, and the second they were inside, he shoved Dean against the door and proceeded to attempt to suck all the oxygen from Dean’s lungs.

He could do this, Dean thought. He could totally have sex with a—

“Wait,” Dean said, pulling out of the kiss sharply.

Castiel frowned. “Dean.”

“It’s weird, okay?” Dean said. “I don’t sleep with monsters.”

Castiel shoved off Dean so sharply that he lost breath for a different reason.

“Monster? Now I’m a monster?” Castiel demanded. He was angry and insulted, but sounded more weary than anything.

“I didn’t mean it like— Of course you’re not a monster, Cas.”

“Dean, I’ve been human more years than I was a seal. That life is behind me. Sure, I take cruises, sometimes I miss the sea, but I like my legs. I like this body. I like what I can do with it, with you. I am human. I just happen to have an ability you don’t have. When you told me who you were, I thought it meant you would understand the difference between a monster and what I am.”

Dean ran a hand through his short strands. “You’re making me feel like an ass.”

“Well, I imagine it’s not a first for you.”

Dean let out a bark of laughter. He looked back at Cas, evaluating him. He certainly looked like the exact same Cas he’d met days ago, certainly had the same powerful look of warmth and sexiness in his eyes.

“Nothing has to change,” Castiel reminded him again.

“You mean you still want to fuck me until I can’t see straight,” Dean said coyly.

Castiel’s eyes grew wide with arousal. “Yes.”

“Still want to take care of me afterwards?”

His eyes softened. “Always.”

Dean wrapped a hand around Castiel’s tie and pulled him in, closing the chilly distance Castiel had enforced. “Then I’m in.”

They were kissing and clothing was going everywhere. Two jackets straight to the ground, a tie fell over a chair, shoes were chucked, thumping against whatever furniture they happened to hit. Dean had Castiel down to pants only in no time flat.

God he loved that chest. The little freckle above the right nipple, the curve of chiseled pectorals. Before Castiel could finish pushing Dean’s dress shirt off his shoulders, he shoved Castiel back onto the bed and climbed on top to lick up every angle, every mark he could find.

He took a nipple into his mouth and sucked. Not every guy had sensitive nipples. Dean surely did, but most didn’t. So he was pleasantly surprised when Castiel responded with a gasp and arched into Dean’s touch.

Castiel was in the middle of moaning his name when a shout came through the doorway.

The voice was deep, and not overly full of hurt or fear, just surprise. And Dean was about ninety percent confident it had come from Sam. He’d certainly heard that shout often enough.

Jumping off of Castiel, Dean rushed to the door and threw it open. Castiel followed right behind him, looking under his arm to see into the hall. They must have looked ridiculous, Castiel topless in dress pants, and Dean in a similar state, only with a shirt unbuttoned. They were both flushed and it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what they’d been up to.

Sam didn’t seem to care. He was holding a much shorter man with sandy hair and clothes that didn’t fit well against the wall by his throat.

Any doubt about who he was vanished when Dean’s eyes saw the big furry thing wrapped around his waist.

“Put me down!” the man demanded.

“Sam?” Dean asked from the door. His fingers itched for a gun he didn’t have.

“This asshole just attacked me! What the hell, man?” Sam kept his eyes glued to his assailant.

Short, sandy haired man stared back like he was the one towering over someone here, not the other way around. “Give me Anna’s sealcoat.”

Sam blinked a few times, glanced back to Dean, blinked again, and said, “What?”

“I know it’s on this deck, I can smell it. And you’ve been here more than anyone.”

“What?” Sam repeated more forcefully.

Castiel made a funny sound from next to Dean and stepped out around him. Gabriel’s eyes went wide when he spotted Castiel.

“Cas?” Dean asked.

“Dean, I’d like to introduce you to my cousin.”

“Gabriel,” the man supplied. “We all thought you were dead,” he directed to Castiel.

“Just in hiding. We should move this into my room.”

Gabriel began to protest, so Sam tightened his hold.

“Cousin,” Castiel said, “I wouldn’t resist them.”

Gabriel glared daggers at Sam, who glared daggers back. Only Sam’s daggers were also confused daggers.

“C’mon, Sam,” Dean said, pushing the door to Castiel’s room wide open.

Sam released his hold on Gabriel’s neck and shoved him towards the stateroom. Once inside the room, Sam pushed Gabriel into a chair in the corner of the living area. No one else sat, though there was a couch and another chair, had they wanted to.

“Someone tell me what the fuck this lunatic was talking about,” Sam demanded.

Castiel opened his mouth but Dean put a hand on his shoulder to quiet him and took a step forward.

“Got a call from Charlie. The hair is from a seal. We’re dealing with a selkie,” Dean explained. “Well, at least two actually. Cas is one, too.”

Sam’s eyes snapped from Gabriel to Castiel. “A selkie?”

“They’re shape-shifters—”

“But as seals. Yeah, I know the myth,” Sam said, catching Dean off-guard. He turned back to Gabriel. “So some rich asshole stole Anna’s coat and has been keeping her hostage?”

Gabriel nodded.

“Anna is also my cousin,” Castiel supplied. “We have to get her coat back.”

“Alright,” Dean said loudly. “My turn. Someone fill me in. Why’s this coat important?”

Sam turned to him. “In the myth I know, while a female selkie is playing on the sand, a man steals her sealcoat. This binds her to him, and she is stuck with him until she can get her coat back. There are variations on the tale, but that’s the main gist.”

“That’s essentially correct,” Castiel confirmed. “Our coats are incredibly private, partly because if someone else takes ownership of it, they own you. It’s a very personal, cruel kind of hostage taking.”

“It’s barbaric,” Gabriel spit from the corner.

“Dude,” Sam said, “You attacked someone. You’re demolishing these rooms. You don’t have much of a high ground.”

Gabriel shrugged. “Like I care about some rich brats’ shit. I just want my sister to be free.”

For the first time since Sam had yelped, Dean looked at Castiel closely. Castiel met his gaze and tried to convey a hundred things in the look. His eyes were pleading. _Save my cousin_ , they said. _But oh god, what if they try to kill me or take me back?_

Dean turned back to Gabriel. “Are you sure she needs rescuing? Maybe she can do it herself. Or maybe she left intentionally like Cas did.”

Gabriel screwed his face up in disgust. “Why would she ever want that.”

“Because human sex is amazing,” Castiel volunteered with a shrug. It drew an awkward light to the fact that he was half naked.

“Besides,” Gabriel continued like he hadn’t spoken. “She was able to get to the beach. And because I’d tracked her, we were able to talk. She had to return fast, but she was able to tell me he’d be on this boat, and trust me, she wants her coat back.”

Sam gestured to Dean. “We need to talk in private,” Sam told them. “Don’t,” he added, pointing a finger at Gabriel, “try to go anywhere. We might be able to help you.”

Gabriel looked skeptical but eventually nodded.

Once they were alone in the hallway, the first thing Sam did was flick at Dean’s open shirt. “Having a good time?”

Dean splayed his hands wide. “I’m not saying it wasn’t weird when I first found out, but damn Sammy, the things he can do—”

“Forget I asked,” Sam said quickly, though he was smiling fondly, conversation dropped. “What don’t I know? Something else is going on with Cas.”

“Ah, he may have accidentally played a part in the death of his brother and has been hiding as a human for the last 20 years.”

“Oh. Okay then.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, um,” Sam said, scratching the back of his neck. “I think we should help find Anna’s coat. We can probably find it a lot faster and cleaner than the job Gabriel is doing, and then he should be out of our hair. But if it’s going to mess with Cas…“

“He wants Anna to get her coat back, too,” Dean said, glancing back at the door. “He’d probably risk himself to save her.”

Sam didn’t respond right away and Dean got the uncomfortable feeling he was being evaluated.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Sam said in that tone that meant nothing wasn’t nothing. “It’s just, you’ve only known him a few days and sometimes you talk like you’ve known him for … forever.”

Dean scowled. “Go braid your hair, Samantha.”

He didn’t give Sam a chance to respond, pushing straight back into Castiel’s stateroom.

“Cas,” he called. Castiel and Gabriel both looked up. Castiel had taken a seat on the couch, and the two had been leaning in close to talk. “Still want to save Anna?”

“Yes,” Castiel said without hesitation. “Dean, I’m not… Gabriel poses no threat to me.”

Dean nodded his understanding. “Then I have to call Charlie again. I think we can give her a few more parameters now and narrow in which bastard’s room we need to target.”

While he called Charlie and explained the situation, Sam sat down with Gabriel and Castiel to talk. He looked really excited, was probably asking a hundred selkie related questions. At least Castiel looked mostly amused. Gabriel was staring at Sam like he was a particularly odd puzzle.

Fortunately, Charlie did not need a lot of explanation. She’d already been digging up information on seal shapeshifters when she came across the selkie myth. The part about Cas being one caught her off guard, but the rest of the story was easy to fill in.

“Thanks, Charlie,” Dean said after he’d explained what they needed, hearing her keyboard clacking away. He’d given her as much information as he could think of. A man, traveling independently, very wealthy, probably listed as not-married. Eliminate anyone who had already been attacked and…

“Easy as destroying a death star,” Charlie quipped. “His name is Marv. Room 404.” She giggled. “Error: asshole has been found.”

Dean ignored the last part. “You’re sure it’s him?”

“Can’t be anyone else.”

“You’re awesome, Charlie,” Dean said fondly.

“I know,” Charlie replied. Dean thought she was hanging up when she spoke again. “Dean did you know male selkies are known for being really attractive to the ladies? Guess it works on men, too.”

“I— what?”

“Nothing. Just wondering what the man who got you to give up your supernatural prejudices looks like. He sounds dreamy.”

“Good bye, Charlie.”

“No, wait, I want a picture!”

It was the last thing Dean heard before cutting off the call.

“She have anything?” Sam asked.

“Yep.”

“Okay,” Sam drew out. “Care to share with the class?”

Dean looked to Gabriel and back to Sam. “Not particularly,” Dean said. “Cas, can you watch Gabriel for a moment, make sure he doesn’t go anywhere? I need to talk to Sam again.”

Cas nodded.

“Pffft, like he can take me,” Gabriel said, crossing his arms petulantly.

Cas snapped on what Dean had come to think as his dom face and stared down at Gabriel. If he had a thought bubble, it would read, “Come at me bro.” Gabriel sunk further into the chair.

“What’s up?” Sam asked once they were in the hallway. Dean was looking at the room numbers.

“That way,” Dean said, taking off. He was walking quickly, buttoning his shirt back up.

“That way to what?”

“His name is Marv, room 404.”

Sam kept followed as Dean read numbers off of the door.

“I thought we were coming out here to talk?” Sam asked.

“Do you want to talk, or do you want to find the coat, so we don’t risk Knight in Shining Armor knocking another innocent guy out?”

“Okay. Good point.”

“Thank you,” Dean said. “Here.” He motioned at the 404 in brass numbers, labeling the door.

“Alright, let’s do this,” Sam said. Without consulting further, he knocked on the door. Within moments, a short man in his fifties with scraggly hair opened the door and stared at them confusedly. “Hello sir, we’re with guest relations. We would like to know your thoughts on the cruise so far. If you make it to our office by ten o’clock, we’ll be treating you to champagne and brie for your time.”

Marv checked his watch. “That’s in five minutes, you toadstool!”

“You are a very important customer to us, I’m sure the office will stay open late for you.”

“Yes, yes they will,” Marv said, squaring his shoulders. He pushed between them and stormed off down the hallway. Sam slid his foot into the door to keep it from clicking shut.

“Aren’t rich people easy to play?” Dean asked with a smirk, pushing the door open.

“Pretentious assholes are easy to play,” Sam corrected, following him into the room. “Not everyone with money is a dick.”

Dean was silent for a moment, looking around the room. Of course Sam wasn’t putting a name on it, but Dean did have very intimate proof that not every rich person was a dick. “Yeah,” he agreed.

“So where do you think he’d keep it?” Sam asked, pushing open a closet door.

“I don’t know, the captured shapeshifter’s artifact chest?”

Sam snorted, sliding suits one by one across the rod of the closet.

Dean opened the top drawer of the dresser. Boxers. The middle drawer had a variety of clothing, t-shirts, pajama bottoms, a pair of jeans. At the bottom drawer, he whooped.

The coat was folded gently, but as it was bigger than the drawer it was in, it was stuffed to the brim and crunched. At first glance, it looked like a large furry animal had crawled in and gotten stuck.

“Got it,” Dean announced. He reached in and pulled it out. It was soft. “I wish all of our cases were this easy and pain free,” he mumbled to himself. Maybe they’d just been owed a break and this was their one pass.

“C’mon, Dean. Let’s get it back to Gabriel, so he can get it back to Anna, and you can get back to… Yeah, I’m not going to finish that statement.”

* * *

Gabriel yanked the coat out of their hands when they got back, and then petted it gently and reverently. He hadn’t been too thrilled about having been left out of the process, but Dean could tell he was too happy to have Anna’s coat back to care too much. He mostly wished he could have been there to rip Marv’s balls off.

They watched Gabriel jump overboard and presumably swim away into the night and then headed back towards Castiel’s room. Cas unlocked it and went in, pausing to hold it open, but Dean hesitated in the hallway with Sam.

“Uh, Sam, not to be rude, but we’d sort of been in the middle of something when you screeched like a toddler,” Dean said.

“Oh!” Sam said. “Sorry, no, I’m not coming in. I was just going to say goodnight and get back to what I was doing.”

Dean’s eyes narrowed. “What were you doing, anyway? Why were you in this hall when Gabe got you? He said you’d been here a lot.”

Sam grinned and walked down two doors. He knocked, and a gorgeous woman with dark hair and long legs opened it. She was wearing the skimpiest piece of lingerie Dean had ever seen.

“Dean, I love you, but sometimes you are really, really dense,” Sam said. He slid into the arms of the beautiful woman and kicked the door shut behind him.

“Huh,” Dean mumbled.

“Looks like you’re not the only one having some fun on this trip,” Castiel observed.

A corner of Dean’s mouth ticked up. “Good for you, Sammy.”

“Good for you, Dean,” Castiel purred. “Get in here. Mr. Bond would like to bring you to your knees.”

“Oh god,” Dean gasped. He followed Castiel into the room and shut the door with a click.

They spent the rest of the trip in bed. Their time together was short and they didn’t want to waste a minute of it. Dean was pretty sure the room he and Sam had paid for went unused for the entire trip minus Dean’s first night, and wasn’t that a joke? But Dean was well fucked and extra limber and it might take his body weeks to fully recover from some of the things he did, he wasn’t going to complain.

Though, if he was to be honest with himself, which he wasn’t often, there was one thing he could complain about.

“Sure there isn’t much marine biology in Kansas?” Dean joked for the third time. They were at the dock, disembarked and ready to head home. Dean wasn’t in a rush, and given that Sam was saying goodbye to the girl he’d been seeing, he didn’t seem to be in a rush either.

Castiel smiled sympathetically. “Call if you’re ever in Miami.”

“And you, if you’re in Kansas.”

“I will,” Castiel promised. “Call me crazy, but I don’t think this is the last we will see of each other.”

“No,” Dean agreed. “I don’t think so either.”

Dean leaned in and Castiel followed, kissing him gently, and then more deeply, his hand wrapping around Dean’s neck, Dean’s taking his hips and pulling him close.

They parted reluctantly, remaining a hair’s width apart, sharing breath.

A digital shutter click ruined their moment. Sam was standing ten feet away, grinning like the cat that caught the canary.

“What?” Sam asked with a shrug. “Charlie will want to see this.”

“Sam,” Dean growled. Sam took another picture. And another. Castiel was grinning and laughing now, so Sam took another one.

Dean twitched, wanting to run after Sam, and Castiel, being the awesome selkie he was, seemed to know that.

“Go,” he said, granting permission, his hand sliding off of Dean.

Sam took off running a second before Dean did, Castiel’s laughter trailing after them.

Later, when they were home and back to hunting things that go bump in the night, it wasn’t the sex that Dean thought of fondly. It wasn’t the orgasms that had him picking up the phone, “just to talk.”

It was that laugh.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed, please leave a comment. I love hearing from you!


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